Quarantined
by muse142
Summary: An accident in 7th-year Advanced Potions class results in Nicole Archer's quarantine - in Snape's personal quarters! Eventual SS-OFC romance. Tried hard to avoid the dreaded Mary Sue Syndrome. WIP; though there are many chapters, they're not too long.
1. The Accident

Disclaimers 'n' Stuff:

I do not own these characters, nor did I create the universe in which they live or the magic that they use. All I do is flesh them out a little.

I am also very much NOT British in any way, shape, or form, so if I'm not entirely accurate with anything, I apologize in advance. I do have one Brit friend (thanks much, Davenport!!) so hopefully I didn't botch too much of it.

Read on, enjoy, and please leave some constructive criticism!

* * *

The dungeon door flew open very suddenly, and Professor Severus Snape strode quickly to the front of the class, cape billowing behind him. He whirled to face his students and crossed his arms. The seventh-year Advanced Potions class watched him expectantly, each sitting behind a cauldron. The room was completely silent.

"The Acuity Potion is among the most difficult to successfully make. Can anyone tell me why?" A certain frizzy-haired know-it-all would have been straining out of her seat to answer, but she had graduated the previous year. Potter had made a spectacular show of foiling the Dark Lord, and so Snape was back to the humdrum life of a Hogwarts Professor. However, this class lacked the motivation of last year's students; they just sat and stared at him. "No one has an answer? I didn't expect so." Snape let his gaze fall on each student in turn as he spoke. "As you _would_ all know if you had read the assigned pages, after adding the hellebore, and before the lemon rind, the unfinished Acuity Potions give off a bright violet gas that is _highly_ _poisonous_ when inhaled." No reaction from the students. "I normally don't coddle my classes, but the poison is fast-acting and would leave no time for transportation to the Hospital Wing. I'd be the one putting you back together, and I guarantee that I would not make it pleasant for you. I have no desire to play nursemaid tonight." Still no reaction.

"In addition, I have noticed that you students have a tendency to botch even the simplest of potions. This potion can be volatile, so I encourage all of you to use caution. A misstep could be potentially fatal. For once, try to avoid the usual miserable failure."

Snape's penetrating gaze met only blank stares and thoughts of class's end.

"Well?" he said, sneering. "What are you waiting for? Begin."

The N.E.W.T-level Advanced Potions class had only a handful of students, mostly Slytherins who thought they had favor in Snape's eyes. There were two Hufflepuffs who were determined to become Healers, one Ravenclaw who would have almost been as insufferable as that Granger girl if she ever opened her mouth, and one bland-looking Griffindor who… well, Snape had no clue why she had taken the course, but since she hadn't blown anything up and her grades weren't as horrible as most, he had allowed her to continue to the higher levels. Snape walked slowly about the room, peering into the cauldrons and occasionally questioning the students. The Ravenclaw girl was the first to raise the purple strands, jumping back from the cauldron as soon as a hint of a wisp began to appear. Snape quietly moved to stand next to her.

"Miss Miller." She jumped again, this time a few inches back from him. He stared at her, the corners of his lips turned up in not-quite-a-smirk. "I told you this was poisonous, not out to consume your soul. Watch." The rest of the class watched, too, as the purple wisp rose higher from the cauldron. Snape extended one fingertip and curled the mist round his finger, as if it were a piece of string. When he took his hand away, the loop stayed there, moving slowly upwards by the gradual push of new-formed mist below it. "It acts like a viscous solid, quite difficult to inhale. As long as you don't _try_ to kill yourself, you should be fine, Miss Miller. I only gave the warning in case any of you decided to be profoundly mentally retarded today. Now get back to your seat."

The dark-haired girl sat down again, but her eyes were still bugging out of her head, and her face was still pale. One would think that Snape had asked her to kiss a dementor, not sit in her seat like a sane person. Snape returned to the front of the class and watched tendrils of purple reach towards the ceiling. He glanced up at the vaulted ceiling, knowing that soon enough the mist would be pooling up there, and he'd have to be the one to clean it out. He could probably just burn the stuff, but if he did it while it was too near the ceiling… that may be a bad idea. No, first he had to create a little wind to push it down here, contain it somehow… Snape's gaze fell back to his students just in time to see the Griffindor girl slump over with a small squeak.

"Back!" He snapped, rushing towards her. "_Back! Away from the cauldrons!_" The other students flew to the sides of the dungeon. Snape knelt at the girl's side, trying to remember her name. She lay awkwardly twisted, facing the ground, her brown hair almost touching the fire beneath her cauldron. Snape brushed her hair back from the flames, put one hand on her shoulder and one hand on her hip, and turned her slowly onto her back. When he saw her face, he remembered her name. "Miss Archer," he growled. She mumbled something, sounding drunk. Snape sat up a few inches and peered over the lip of her cauldron. Green, not purple, and a fog, not a few strands. In one smooth motion he produced a vial from his pocket, uncorked it, and emptied it into her cauldron. The smoke immediately dissipated. Realizing what she had probably done, he scooped the unconscious girl into his arms. "Stay there," he commanded his class. "Don't. Touch. Anything."

The class murmured a terrified collective reply.

"I'll be back as soon as I can." Still holding the girl, Snape managed to get to his feet unaided. "Miss Archer, it seems, has no regard for her own safety and no qualms about threatening the safety of others. When I have taken care of her idiocy, I shall return to deal with the rest of you." Snape swept out of the room as suddenly and dramatically as he had entered.


	2. Her Saviour

Disclaimers 'n' Stuff:

I do not own these characters, nor did I create the universe in which they live or the magic that they use. All I do is flesh them out a little.

I am also very much NOT British in any way, shape, or form, so if I'm not entirely accurate with anything, I apologize in advance. I do have one Brit friend (thanks much, Davenport!!) so hopefully I didn't botch too much of it.

Read on, enjoy, and please leave some constructive criticism!

* * *

Snape didn't have to carry the girl very far; the entrance to his office was right outside the dungeon's entrance. Sweeping into the room, he kicked the door shut behind him and, for lack of a better surface, laid the girl on the floor in front of his desk. He let his gaze and his fingertips sweep over her, checking for vital signs. Her pulse was strong and racing, her hands were cold and limp, her breathing felt shallow… and her eyes were open. Wide open, those brown eyes flitted back and forth, trying to take in the room. Snape knew what the poison had done. He realized that he should probably say something to calm her down. 

"I know you can hear me," Snape said, in a tone that was not quite as acerbic as usual. "The fumes you inhaled are interfering with your muscles. Once I administer a counter-potion, you will regain your former abilities. Though you should not expect me to allow you to continue my class without extreme supervision, lest you poison someone else." When Snape saw tears welling up in the girl's eyes, he realized he was making things worse. _But then, since when have you cared about that?_ He took a breath. "I'll be back shortly," he said brusquely.

-

Nicole Archer watched Snape walk away, or at least followed him with her eyes until he was just out of her sight. She couldn't turn her head to follow him, or move her hands to push his away when he had been touching her. Her first instinct was to flinch, but she couldn't even do that. Now she felt her chest grow heavier and heavier, each breath taking more of an effort.

Snape reappeared in her field of vision, holding a flask with silvery liquid inside. He knelt next to her, suddenly too close. His eyes were piercing, his presence intimidating. She felt absolutely helpless, and being at the whim of the most-feared professor in the school was not a calming thought. "I'm going to give you a few drops of this, and it should give you enough strength to drink some more." His voice was softer now, making her feel a little less apprehensive. It only lasted until he put his hand to her jaw, gently opening her mouth. Her heart slammed against the inside of her chest. Snape was far, far too close to her.

"Don't worry, Miss Archer," said Snape, his voice smooth and gentle. "I'm going to give you the antidote now, that's all. Try to swallow it all."

Snape lifted his other hand to Nicole's lips and she could feel the liquid suddenly in her mouth. It was an immense effort to swallow. As soon as she did, she could feel her nerves suddenly become more sensitive. She could feel the fabric of her clothes, the pressure of the couch beneath her, and, for the last instant before Snape took his hands away, Nicole could even feel the pulse in his fingertips. She tried to move her hand. It wouldn't move.

Suddenly Nicole realized that her lungs didn't want to inhale anymore. She stared at Snape, trying to tell him somehow that it wasn't working, she was going to stop breathing, she was going to die here right in front of him. She couldn't force herself to breathe anymore. It felt like there was a weight on her chest, like there was a pillow over her face. Nicole was drowning, and she couldn't make him know. The edges of her vision grew dark. She tried to scream, tried to breathe, but it all failed. The last thing she saw was Snape leaving.

-

Snape raced to his desk, yanking open the drawer of rare potions, and snatched a small vial of clear liquid from the highest shelf. It was the only thing he could think of on the fly. Almost immediately he was back at the girl's side, uncapping the vial and dribbling the tiniest amount into her still-open mouth.

When she inhaled, Snape felt more relieved than he would ever admit to anyone. He slid the vial into his pocket and turned back to watch the girl recover – and inhaled the fine cloud of green vapor the girl had just exhaled.

Snape threw himself backwards and wiped his mouth. He should have known. Purgative Potions _purge the body_; of course she was going to spit out what she had taken in. He fumbled in his pocket with increasingly numbing fingers and finally produced the vial when his legs gave out.

He fell onto his left side heavily, both hands now working at the vial. The damned cap wouldn't come off. His fingers couldn't close over it tight enough to pry it open again. Something to his side moved – the girl. She could help. Snape forced his mouth to form words.

"Archer. Help."

Nicole sat up weakly. Her mouth was dry, and it felt odd to be using her muscles. "Are you okay, Professor?"

Snape wished that he could say anything but "No," because he had a few more choice things to say in response to that idiotic question.

"What should I do?"

Of all the people that could have passed out in his class, it had to have been the dumbest girl Snape ever had the misfortune of meeting. "Right hand." He was reduced to a whisper now. "Few drops. Mouth."

Nicole slid across the floor, feeling too wobbly to attempt standing. In Snape's right hand, as he had said, was a small glass vial. She wrenched the cap open, then looked around. "What am I going to use to put it in your mouth?"

Snape didn't have the ability to speak anymore, but his glare was enough to send Nicole into action.

"Okay! Sorry!" Nicole let a few drops of the potion drip onto her fingers, and from there to his slightly parted lips. She yanked her hand back as if she had been burned. "Is that good?" she asked, wiping her fingers on her robe.

Snape closed his eyes, then nodded. He tilted his head back, exhaling away from anything important.

Nicole used her feet to push herself back towards the couch. She capped the vial again, and set it down near Snape's head. There was a moment of tense silence. Nicole was sure that no student had ever seen Professor Snape like this. While he lacked the usual intimidating poise, the fact that she was alone with him made her uncomfortable. Not to mention that he had just carried her bodily into the room, and that she just _touched_ his _face_. "I'm going to go clean up my cauldron," she said quickly, "and I'll be a lot more careful this time, really."

"No."

"No?"

Snape shifted, trying to push himself to a seated position. It didn't work very well; he let himself drop back to the floor, flat on his back. He spoke slowly and deliberately. "The poison is still in your system. I believe you'd find it quite difficult to even walk normally. On top of that, you are contagious."

"Contagious."

"Your actions in class today have proved you incompetent, Miss Archer. Are you also suddenly incapable of understanding spoken words?" Snape realized that his insults were undercut by the fact that he was sprawled on the floor. He shifted again, and managed to sit up, supporting himself with both hands. "You are contagious because of the Purgative Potion that saved your life." Snape saw her mouth begin to open, and cut her off with, "Purgative Potions should be self-explanatory, Miss Archer, but since your higher mental functions are missing today, I'm willing to state the obvious. They purge magical effects from the body, Miss Archer. This means that the poison you inhaled is going to be expelled with every breath for the next hour or so. However, when the potion's effects are done, there will still be poison in you.

"Let me finish, so I don't have to tolerate any more of your questions. If I give you a full dose of the Purgatory Potion, you would lose your abilities as a witch. So, without any better solutions to this conundrum, we must both take regular, small doses. This means that we must not leave my quarters, because every time we take the potion, we will expel the poison." Snape paused, taking in the expression on the girl's face. "I'm sure I will enjoy your constant company as much as you will enjoy mine."

Nicole could hardly conceal her horror. "How long?"

Snape's eyes narrowed slightly. "As long as you're still breathing poison." Before she could question him, he continued with a frustrated edge to his voice, "Hopefully no more than a week. Two, at the absolute most."

"But—"

"Don't bother me with your questions right now. I have more important things to think of. Namely, the other miscreants in your class, who are cowering in the corners of my dungeon, no doubt." He struggled to his desk and used it to help him stand shakily. "Ask me before you touch any of my belongings. I shall have some of your personal items sent here soon." Snape managed to get around his desk and sat heavily in his chair. "Try not to be a pain." He took out a quill and paper, and started scratching out a note to Dumbledore.


	3. Her New Home

Disclaimers 'n' Stuff:

I do not own these characters, nor did I create the universe in which they live or the magic that they use. All I do is flesh them out a little.

I am also very much NOT British in any way, shape, or form, so if I'm not entirely accurate with anything, I apologize in advance. I do have one Brit friend (thanks much, Davenport!!) so hopefully I didn't botch too much of it.

Read on, enjoy, and please leave some constructive criticism!

* * *

About an hour later Snape realized that he should probably give the girl something to do. Surprisingly, she had just been sitting in one of his office chairs, keeping her hands to herself, while he wrote and received note after note via house-elf,his body slowly coming under control again. No, Madame Pomfrey couldn't think of any better cure than the Purgative Potion. Indeed it would be a good idea for the two of them to stay confined to his chambers, and Madame Pomfrey insists on no less than two weeks, to be safe. Yes, someone is being sent to the dungeon straight away, and the rest of the class dismissed. Yes, Albus would find someone to supervise his classes. Yes, they would use his lesson plans. Yes, they would use his _exact_ lesson plans. Of course the house elves would bring meals to them. Of course the girl's personal items would be brought. What does she want brought to her?

Upon reading that last line, Snape looked up at the girl for the first time in over a half an hour. It seemed that he and this girl, Nicole Archer, were going to be spending quite a bit of time together. She was looking steadfastly at the floor, her arms folded across her chest. She looked like any girl could look; her hair brown, shoulder length and unremarkable, her robes plain. Snape felt a niggling anxiety in his chest while he watched her. Her lack of character was unsettling, he decided, and brushed it to the back of his mind.

"Miss Archer." Her head snapped towards Snape as he stood. "Professor McGonagall shall be sending some of your personal items. Write out what you want and I'll have the note sent to her immediately." She blinked at him. What a twit. However, it wouldn't do to rail at her now; Snape supposed she'd been though quite enough. "Come here and sit down," he snapped. She immediately followed his orders. Cautiously, not meeting his glare, she picked up his quill and started writing. Snape watched her as she scratched down her list of items. She was at least a well-kept girl, and obedient at that. Her face was unmarred by makeup, giving her a more girlish look than most seventh-years. Her eyes never strayed from the parchment as he studied her, running a finger across his lips unconsciously.

The quill had stopped moving, and Nicole glanced up at Snape, her eyes wide.

"Finished?" he asked curtly.

Archer nodded, and he snatched the parchment up. Snape raised his voice slightly. "I need this delivered to Professor McGonagall's chambers." A house-elf Apparated with a pop, took the parchment, and Disapparated just as suddenly. Snape turned back to the girl, the small vial in his outstretched hand. "Take a few drops." She did, silently blowing a green mist into the air. He followed suit, then pocketed the vial again. "I should show you my chambers. Follow me." Without looking back, he swept towards the door that connected his office to his private chambers.

A flight of descending stairs opened into his study, a large room that was sparsely decorated. A dark fireplace was set into the far wall, with a deep green couch to the left. A matching chair sat in front of the fireplace, with a small table between. The walls were lined with shelves holding books, boxes, jars, and lit candles. "My study," Snape said unnecessarily, turning to face Nicole. "You are permitted to read some of the books here, if it would keep you busy. However, I advise you to ask me before you go poking around. We don't want any more… accidents," he sneered, but his voice didn't have the same bite to it as it did in the classroom.

Snape turned away again and went through another door into his bedroom. Even more Spartan, his bedroom had only his bed, large with green and black comforters and pillows, a candle on a stand near the bed, a small table with one chair, and a locked chest. The room was large, in fact it seemed cavernous. Snape swept through the room and indicated a door near his bed.

"That is the bathroom. I suppose I don't need to instruct you on how to use it." Snape saw her gaze fall to the floor and felt absurdly guilty. His mouth was moving before he knew it. "You'll be sleeping here." He gestured to the bed.

"Oh, no… I couldn't…"

"Stop that," he spat, more acidic than he had meant to be. "It would be…" Snape paused, finding the right word, "dishonorable of me to let my guest take the lesser accommodations. You don't mean to insult my honor, I'm sure."

Nicole's mouth moved slightly, but nothing came out. How was she supposed to respond to that?

Suddenly Snape was very close to her. "Do not go through my things." Nicole took a step back, reflexively, and he likewise stepped toward her, leaning over her.. "Do not touch anything without asking me. Do not make too much noise. Do not leave these chambers for any reason." Snape realized that he had been almost yelling; the girl was shaking, almost imperceptibly. Her back was pressing against his bedroom wall; he didn't even realize that he had been closing in on her until that instant. Something about the look in her eyes set something off in Snape's mind. Seized by a sudden crazy impulse, he let his voice drop down to a silky whisper. "Besides all of that," he said softly, leaning down to her, "make yourself at home."


	4. Dinnertime

Disclaimers 'n' Stuff:

I do not own these characters, nor did I create the universe in which they live or the magic that they use. All I do is flesh them out a little.

I am also very much NOT British in any way, shape, or form, so if I'm not entirely accurate with anything, I apologize in advance. I do have one Brit friend (thanks much, Davenport!!) so hopefully I didn't botch too much of it.

Read on, enjoy, and please leave some constructive criticism!

* * *

For several minutes after Snape had swept out of the bedroom, Nicole still stood with her back to the wall, trying to breathe again. She knew that her Potions Professor had the tendency to invade his students' space, but that was… Nicole felt the fine hairs on her arms stand up. He probably just likes intimidating his students, that's the only explanation for it. She certainly felt intimidated. _Among other things_, a little voice in her head appended. 

Nicole cautiously went into the study, less afraid when she saw that Snape wasn't in the room. She sat down on the couch and almost let out a yelp when she sank further into it than she had expected. The plush fabric was cold, even through her robes. In fact, the whole place was cold. It was in the dungeons, after all. Her wand in hand, she flicked her wrist at the fireplace, and with a quiet "_Incendio_" the fireplace sprang to life. Nicole let her head fall back onto the couch. As soon as she closed her eyes, her mind immediately brought up a picture of Snape, leaning _so close_ to her. She groaned, willing the thought away. Why did he have to be such an ass? _Why does he have to smell so good?_ She banished that voice from her mind, but the memory of his scent remained. It was almost inviting, like cinnamon and vanilla. How did a greasy, snarky old git who worked with the grossest potion ingredients all day _smell so damn good_? He probably spelled it to himself to block out the otherwise-overwhelming reek of frog guts or something.

"Miss Archer?"

Her head snapped up. Snape's black eyes bored into hers, and she had the feeling that she was in a load of trouble.

"Your things have arrived, along with some food. I had the house-elves put your items in the bedroom… Shall we eat here?" His eyebrows were raised in an expression of innocent questioning, and his tone was as civil as Nicole had ever heard. She nodded, and Snape snapped his fingers. An instant later, two house-elves ran down the stairs and placed two plates of roast chicken and vegetables on the small table, with bread-and-butter pudding and pumpkin juice besides. As soon as the plates and cutlery were arranged, the elves Disapparated. Snape settled in the chair across from her and leaned towards the table, cutting his portion of meat.

"So you've lit a fire, have you?"

Nicole nodded.

"You should have asked me first. Some of the potions that I create do give off flammable gases."

Snape's sharp voice sent a cold tingle down her spine. "I… I'm sorry, I didn't think—"

"No, I suppose you haven't done much of that today."

They ate in awkward silence for a minute or two, the fire still burning brightly. Nicole stared into the flames, swallowing a mouthful of juice. The lack of conversation was smothering.

"So, do you use the fireplace much? It makes the room seem..." The rest of Nicole's sentence crawled back down her throat when she met Snape's black glare. Her appetite was suddenly gone. A beat passed before she gathered the courage to speak again. "I'm not really hungry…" Before she lost her nerve to Snape's glower, she rushed on, "I asked them to send some books down to me, so I guess I'll go read some, if that's okay with you." Nicole forced herself not to bolt from the room and waited for her Professor's reply.

"I would prefer that you at least try to eat. I have no other food in my chambers, should you suddenly find yourself hungry in a half hour's time." Snape raised an eyebrow as he continued, "Unless my presence bothers you that severely."

Nicole's gaze fell to her plate, and she forced a forkful of peas into her mouth to avoid answering.

Snape was extremely irritated. First her mindless chatter about the fireplace, and now her extreme avoidance. What does she expect him to do? Chit-chat about mundane and meaningless details? If his refusal to engage in mindless gossip was enough to send her from the room, then they were both going to have a very disagreeable two weeks. Preposterously enough, he even felt almost guilty for causing that look to come over her. Before he had spoken, she had looked almost … well, he wouldn't say quite _happy_, but at least not as entirely distraught. He watched her slowly eat two more mouthfuls of peas, her displeasure evident in every movement she made.

"Is it that much of a torment to sit and eat with me?" he said, letting little of his anger show in his voice.

"I-I'm just not hungry, that's all."

"Well then, off with you. Go read your books."

The girl nodded, put down her fork, and practically dashed into the bedroom. Snape gave a sneer of disgust at the now-closed door, then continued his dining, thinking all the while about how miserable the upcoming days would be. He glared at the fire, which was still merrily warming the room, it seemed, just to spite him.


	5. First Night

Disclaimers 'n' Stuff:

I do not own these characters, nor did I create the universe in which they live or the magic that they use. All I do is flesh them out a little.

I am also very much NOT British in any way, shape, or form, so if I'm not entirely accurate with anything, I apologize in advance. I do have one Brit friend (thanks much, Davenport!!) so hopefully I didn't botch too much of it.

Read on, enjoy, and please leave some constructive criticism!

* * *

Besides the hourly contact that the two shared while taking the Purgative Potion, for the rest of the day Snape ignored the stupid girl and Nicole avoided the intimidating professor. At midnight, Snape was sitting in front of the still-roaring fire with a glass of wine, fuming quietly. He was sure that countless students were sneaking out of their dormitories, safe in the knowledge that Snape was locked in his chambers. On nights like this he would usually vent his frustration by stalking the corridors, but his wine was not an entirely unsatisfying substitute. He kept a nice stock of Muggle alcohol for occasions just like this.

The wine traced a cool, tingling line through his body. Realizing what time it was, he drew the vial from his pocket and tilted his head back, letting a drop fall into his mouth. Then he braced himself and went into the bedroom quietly, hoping Archer was asleep.

The candle was still burning – she must have fallen asleep without putting it out. The girl's eyes were mercifully shut. Snape hesitated before approaching her, letting his gaze sweep over her. He had never really gotten a good look at her before. The candlelight flickered in her hair and cast deep, ever-moving shadows down her body. Snape's eyes lingered a little too long over that part of her. The way her robe settled over her curves was almost indecent; no proper student should allow herself to be seen in that state.

Snape forced his gaze to her face and stepped the side of the bed, ignoring the slowly-growing anxiety in the pit of his stomach. Still watching her, he uncorked the vial. He was close enough to hear her breathing now. Her lips were parted slightly, sighing with every breath. Snape suddenly wondered what color her eyes were. Probably brown, like her hair. Her long eyelashes fluttered, and Snape took a deep breath. To his horror, she stirred, and opened her eyes.

"What are you doing?" Nicole squeaked, bolting to a seated position.

Snape checked his initial response and let his face assume an impassive expression. "I am here to give you this." He held the vial out to her.

Nicole took the vial, her eyes locked on her professor's face. Why on earth would he be looming over her in the middle of the night like that? Why didn't he just say something? She should have looked when she had thought she heard the door opening. More importantly, why had he been looking at her like that? When she had opened her eyes, the look on Snape's face was… oh, god, Nicole didn't even want to think about what it was. Better to ignore it, better to look at her hands and not at him. "Thanks," she said flatly, handing the vial back to him. Their fingertips brushed, and Nicole yanked her hand away. Without glancing at Snape, she said "Goodnight" quickly. She didn't lie back down until he was out of the room and the door was closed.

Back in his study, Snape threw himself into his chair and drained his wineglass in one go. The way she had pulled her hand away from his, like his touch had burned her, sparked a rare fury in him. He cursed her for her callousness, he cursed himself for thinking such vulgar thoughts about _a student_, he cursed the blasted poison for quarantining them, and he poured himself another glass of wine. After thinking for a moment, he took a bottle from one of his shelves and let five drops of liquid fall into his glass. A mild and temporary forgetfulness potion should ease his mind. Snape drained this glass just as quickly as the first.


	6. Trouble in Paradise

Disclaimers 'n' Stuff:

I do not own these characters, nor did I create the universe in which they live or the magic that they use. All I do is flesh them out a little.

I am also very much NOT British in any way, shape, or form, so if I'm not entirely accurate with anything, I apologize in advance. I do have one Brit friend (thanks much, Davenport!!) so hopefully I didn't botch too much of it.

Also in this chapter are a few more detailed descriptions of Snape's clothing. While I understand that the canon Snape wears robes and most definitely not a frock coat, I rather like the movie's version of Snape's appearance. Bear with me here.

Thanks to the reviewers! You've given me some things to think about, and that really helps. As always, read on, enjoy, and please leave some constructive criticism!

* * *

After four days, Snape found that he was actually worried about the stupid twit who shared space with him. She hadn't been eating, and he knew she wasn't sleeping either. He had given her books on the second day, but they sat in a pile next to his bed. The previous day he had even offered to supervise a visit to the lake or the library. "Sometime at night," he had offered, "so that you don't end up infecting the whole school." She had merely glared at him, shook her head, and turned away. That damned listless look she always had… Snape didn't know why he even bothered to begin with. Every second brought new waves of frustration and anger. This day hadn't done much to soothe his nerves. The damned girl spent all day moping around the study, not bothering even to light a fire. She hadn't lit a fire since he had snapped at her that first night. Snape realized that the darkness actually bothered him, and the realization stoked his irritation. 

For the fourth night in a row Snape sat in his candlelit study, but with a mug of tea this time instead of a wineglass. He was too agitated tonight to be drinking. The teapot magically warmed itself, floating at Snape's eye level a few feet from him. In his mind's eye repeated the image of Archer's face falling, of her shrinking away from him. Damn it all. Will this persist for the entire damned week?

Snape decided to do something about it. He set his mug on the table as he stood, sweeping toward his bedroom with long strides. Snape's hand was on the doorknob, ready to throw the door open, when he realized that he didn't actually know what he was going to say. Hesitating, he took his hand from the doorknob and instead crossed the arm across his chest, his other hand coming up to tap a finger against his lower lip. It wasn't time for the potion yet, so that wasn't an excuse. He thought for a second. With a wave of his hand, the candles in the study were snuffed. In complete darkness and with the utmost caution, he stole into the bedroom.

Luckily, she wasn't facing the door. Snape noticed that tonight she had at least bothered to change into nightclothes, lighter-colored than her normal robes. However, the shape of her body through the thinner fabric was unnervingly distracting. He silently made his way to the single chair in the room and sat down, eyeing the sleeping girl. At least, hopefully she was asleep.

A movement from the bed made Snape's muscles tense. Archer gasped audibly. For an instant, Snape had the absurd thought that the girl might be choking, but when he saw her body shudder and curl up, he knew she was crying.

Well, this was different.

An unwanted memory floated to the surface of Snape's mind, of a time when he had more directly caused a reaction like this in another. Countless, faceless, nameless other young girls who fled from him, screaming until they realized that there was no escape, finally collapsing into quiet, desperate tears. Snape took a silent breath and forced the memories away. He was not in control of himself when that had happened; he was acting under orders of a far darker force, spreading terror to unnamed victims. The quiet sobs that shook this girl's body raised the hairs on Snape's neck. This girl had a name. Nicole Archer. Snape had seen enough crying. He left the room as silently as he had entered. The candles blazed instantly back into life. Quickly he snatched a small tumbler from one of his shelves and nearly ran up the stairs to his office to access his less potent potions.

First he poured out about two ounces of the Draft of Peace. Two droppers of a relatively-mild and slow-acting sleeping draught, a midnight blue liquid, turned the liquid in the cup a clear sky blue. A final ounce of Forgetfulness Potion and the finished draft was a pearly pale-blue liquid, the consistency of melted ice cream. As he descended into his study once again, he dipped the tip of one finger into the mixture and tasted it. A pleasant tingle spread through his body. The draft tasted like marshmallows. He stood before the bedroom door for a moment, deftly uncorking the Purgative Potion with one hand and letting two drops fall into the glass. After the vial was back in his pocket, he opened the door slowly, making enough blatant noise so that Archer – Nicole – would know that he was there. As Snape had expected, by the time he had gotten the door closed Nicole was sitting bolt-upright and staring at him.

"I don't mean to bother you," Snape said softly, taking small steps toward the bed. He could see that her eyes were red from crying and felt a twinge of pride at being able to do something about it for once. "I brought you this." He extended the hand holding the glass. Nicole just looked at it suspiciously.

"What's that?"

"That," Snape lifted the glass a little, tilting his head to indicate it, "is your nightly Purgative Potion, mixed with a draft to aid your sleep." Nicole stared strangely at him. Snape pursed his lips slightly and inhaled through flaring nostrils. Why was he so worried about such a frustratingly dull girl, again? "I noticed that you haven't been sleeping well." He raised one eyebrow, continuing. "Tonight seemed particularly unrestful. Surely you would be better off asleep than… in such a sorry state." Still holding the potion, he pressed it towards her, impatience getting the better of him. "Drink it and get it over with."

Nicole jumped at the tone of command in her professor's voice, taking the glass before she could think about it. She stared down into the swirling blue liquid for a second, then back up at Snape.

Before Snape had truly registered what had happened, he was soaked in liquid and his floor was covered with splashes and glass shards. Stunned and wordless, he stared into Nicole's furious and tear-filled eyes. "I'm sorry that poisoning myself has caused such an inconvenience for you that you'd want to knock me out with a sleeping draft." Her lips quivered as she spoke, and tears fell down her red cheeks. "I'm sorry for sleeping in your bed, and taking up your space, and breathing your air. I don't want to be here. I hate it here. And since you're so obviously disgusted by my presence, I'd rather you not try and pretend to tolerate me, okay?" Nicole took a breath and held it, willing herself to keep a straight face.

"Very well," said Snape, in a voice just above a whisper. He bowed stiffly, his eyes never leaving hers. "Whatever you wish." Without warning, Nicole's stiff upper lip dissolved in a flurry of tears. She bolted into the bathroom.

Snape glowered at the bits of glass on his floor. He produced a wand from his cloak. "_Reparo_," he muttered through gritted teeth. As soon as the glass formed itself from the pieces, Snape snatched it from the ground and turned on his heel towards the study. After two long strides he realized that the girl, insane as she was, still needed a dose of the Purgative Potion. He took two drops from the vial, placed it on the table, and stormed out of the room. Barely stopping to toss the glass onto the table, Snape continued up the stairs to his office desk.

Once behind his desk, Snape felt immediately calmer and in control. He took out a parchment and quill.

_Albus_, he wrote, _I am coming to the end of my patience with this girl. Despite my best efforts to persuade her otherwise, she refuses to eat or sleep, and her demeanor towards me is about to drive me mad. Tonight I attempted to make her a draught to calm her nerves and help her sleep, and she quite literally threw it in my face. This is absolutely insufferable._ Snape paused, closed his eyes for a moment, then continued. _Albus, you are much better than I at dealing with these kinds of situations. If you have any advice to give me, it would be most appreciated. –Severus_.

While Snape disliked asking for help, he wasn't sure of any alternatives besides throttling the stupid girl.

"I need to have this delivered to Headmaster Dumbledore," Snape said in a commanding voice. A House-elf immediately Apparated and Disapparated with the note. Snape finally let himself relax, sinking into his chair. His eyes closed and he felt suddenly very tired. Perhaps he would just fall asleep in his office chair. Shifting his weight to a more comfortable position, he let the tenseness flow out of his muscles and rested his head against the plush fabric. A few seconds later, the distinctive _pop_ of an Apparation disturbed his near-slumber. His eyes shot open as the House-elf Disapparated. He hadn't expected Albus to reply so soon.

_Severus, _the short note began, _have you tried being nice to her?_ Snape nearly ripped the parchment in half. He realized that the corner of his mouth was twitching. _I'm sure you've been as courteous as you ever get, but you'll probably need more than that. Try making small-talk on occasion. And for Merlin's sake, Severus, don't treat her like a first-year Potions student. She is a person too. –Albus_.

What on earth did that mean? He read the note twice over again before balling it up and tossing it onto his desk. It bounced across and over the desk, but by the time it reached the floor, Snape was raging too furiously to care. Be nice? He had been nice! By his standards, he had bent over backwards for the brat! Of all the preposterous things Albus could have said…

Suddenly Snape realized that he was in his study. He didn't remember coming down the stairs, and he didn't know how long he had been standing behind his chair, fists clenched around his mug of tea. It had cooled enough to be disgusting. He put the mug down more violently than he intended to. Something stronger was definitely required.

A few minutes later and Snape lay sprawled on his couch, working on a second tumbler of iced Dutch gin, his frock coat splayed on the floor next to him. Albus' words kept running through his mind. Be nice. Small talk. She's a person too. Bullshit, all of it. Snape's plans were far more satisfactory. He'd just ignore the weepy idiot until he could get her out of his hair. Perhaps toss her out of his Advanced Potions class. The twit deserved it, getting them poisoned like that. Snape managed to finish the drink from a lying position without spilling any, then let his glass fall to the floor. Despite his racing mind, the alcohol had dulled his thoughts just enough that fatigue could take over, pulling him into dreamless sleep.


	7. The Confrontation

Disclaimers 'n' Stuff:

I do not own these characters, nor did I create the universe in which they live or the magic that they use. All I do is flesh them out a little.

I am also very much NOT British in any way, shape, or form, so if I'm not entirely accurate with anything, I apologize in advance. I do have one Brit friend (thanks much, Davenport!!) so hopefully I didn't botch too much of it.

Read on, enjoy, and please leave some constructive criticism!

* * *

Nicole sat up with a start, realizing that her fingertips were starting to go numb. Taking the vial in her hand, she realized that she had been depending on Snape to bring her the potion. Where was he, anyway? If she was taking the potion now, shouldn't he? And… yes, she should apologize for throwing that glass at him, although the thought of it terrified her. She slid to her feet, still in a nightgown, and slowly opened the door to the study. As soon as the door was fully open, Nicole stopped in her tracks, gaping. 

Professor Snape had fallen asleep on his couch. He looked strange, less scary, without his coat. Nicole padded softly to the big chair across from Snape and sat down. Now she was faced with a dilemma: wake the teacher and face his wrath, or let him sleep and risk endangering him. Nicole looked at her sleeping professor, and felt a twinge of… something. She felt like she was seeing him for the first time. He looked so different without a scowl on his face, all sprawled out on the couch. His clothes, without his coat, looked out of place on him. The first few buttons on his white dress shirt were unbuttoned, one sleeve rolled up, and it seemed almost scandalous to see so much of his skin. Nicole felt as if she was intruding on Snape's privacy. In a way, she supposed she was.

A hitch in Snape's breathing made Nicole jump. What if it was because he hadn't taken the potion? Nicole looked at the vial in her hand, then back at Snape. She had to wake him. Nicole stood, took a step towards Snape, then stopped. This was going to be hell. She knew he was going to look at her like she was worthless, and insult her, and use that tone of voice that made her feel so small. But if she didn't wake him…

"Professor?" she started quietly. The corner of his mouth twitched once, but nothing else. Nicole was clutching the vial so hard her knuckles were white. "Professor? Professor Snape, you have to wake up."

When Snape woke, he woke suddenly. Within a second he had swung his body to a seated position and crossed his arms, looking up at her with his usual expression. "Yes, Miss Archer?"

Nicole felt her eyes moisten, but she swallowed hard and forced her voice to be steady. "I think you should take some of this." She held out the vial in an unsteady hand. He took it from her, a different expression on his face than she had ever seen. Probably because of what she had done. "Professor, before anything else… I want to apologize." Nicole's eyes were locked on the professor's coat, on the floor. It really did have a lot of buttons. "I'm really sorry for what I did last night. It was stupid… I feel really stupid. I know you don't like me being here, and the way I acted… It doesn't help anything."

She looked up into Snape's intense black eyes. He looked contemplative, and said nothing for a second. Then, in a completely neutral tone of voice, he said, "I understand." Nicole wasn't sure how to respond. Her confusion turned to dread when Snape continued, "Please, sit down." Snape looked down at himself, as if noticing where he was for the first time. "I have something to attend to, but I shall return." She sat in his chair, looking at the floor as he rose and started to move about, her stomach sinking to her knees.

-

Snape's thoughts raced as one hand buttoned up the sleeve on the opposite arm. How many students would have just let him sleep? Especially with the outburst that had occurred the previous night, Snape wouldn't have expected this from Archer. It was probably the girl's stupid Griffindor courage that spurred her actions. He was grateful that he had only rolled up one sleeve, as well. While the Dark Mark couldn't be activated, it hadn't faded since the downfall of the Dark Lord. He shrugged, stretched his arms, and tugged a little bit at his shirt so that the white extended just beyond the black of his coat. Archer had seen him at his most vulnerable moment, while he slept, and he noted that it didn't feel as bad as he would have expected. Perhaps Dumbledore had a point. Perhaps Severus had overreacted. What was the Headmaster's advice? Be nice… small talk… something about not treating her like she was in class. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door again and stepped inside.

Archer was looking down into her lap; Snape doubted that she knew he was in the room. He took out his wand and muttered, "_Incendio_," and the girl's head snapped up at the exact moment the fireplace lit up. Her gaze found his, and Snape saw the fear in her eyes. He could see her visibly tense, as if she was about to leap from the chair. _Be nice_, he told himself. It had been a long time since he had been anything but the snarky Potions master. "I thought a fire might… brighten the room." Feeling foolish, Snape sat on the couch stiffly. Raising his voice slightly, he barked, "We require breakfast."

A House-elf Apparated almost instantly, squeaking, "What is you wanting, sir?"

"I'll have a plate of bacon and eggs and… Miss Archer?" Snape looked at her pointedly.

"Uh, I… I'm not really…"

"Miss Archer, I insist. You have not eaten well recently." He paused, gauging her expression. _Nice_, he thought. "Please?"

The girl's expression was cloudy. Snape wasn't sure what that indicated, but he thought it a good sign that a second later Archer ordered toast and jam. When the House-elf left, a silence fell over the two of them. The cheery crackling of the fire made the stillness even worse. Snape knew that Archer wasn't going to say anything unless he did, but his mind was blank. What was there to talk about?

"Professor, is something wrong?"

Snape realized that he had been staring straight at Archer. "No. I simply cannot think of how to start a conversation." The girl's face contorted into an expression that Snape could not possibly interpret. "Are you alright, Miss Archer?"

"You want to talk with me?"

"Well, it's preferable to sitting in silence. If we will be confined in these chambers for another week and a half, we may as well make the best of it instead of fighting. Don't you agree?"

Before Nicole could speak, the House-elf showed up with their food. Hunger pangs twisted her stomach. She should have asked for something more than toast, but she had no idea that Snape would be so mild with her. After the House-elf left, she asked quietly, "Are you sure you don't mind eating with me, Professor?"

"Miss Archer," Snape began in his usual tone, but when he saw the girl visibly flinch, he finally broke down. "I have been worried sick about you. I would be very glad to see you eat something." He saw the surprise on Archer's face. Speaking so freely twisted Snape's stomach, but he reminded himself that this was a special situation. His classroom manner was not appropriate here; Dumbledore was right about that, at least. "I apologize for being so abrupt with you. Old habits are, after all, difficult to break. Perhaps you would be so kind as to help show me a less… abrasive manner." Snape filled his mouth with a forkful of eggs and waited for a response.

Nicole could hardly believe her ears. It sounded like her professor was asking her to be friends. Or something. Her mouth was dry. "I'm not sure what to say, Professor."

"Then it appears as if we are stuck." Both of them ate quietly for about a minute before a thought occurred to Snape. Small talk. "So, why did you take Advanced Potions?"

"Why?"

Instead of the irritation that Archer's repetition would cause, Snape was merely glad to hear her talk to him. "Yes, Miss Archer. Why. You are the only Griffindor in my class, and as your actions have demonstrated, not overly skilled at Potions." By the expression on Archer's face, Snape feared that his voice may have been overly harsh. "Did I say something wrong?"

Nicole's eyes on her plate, she shrugged.

"I do not understand. I'm trying to have a pleasant chat with you."

"It seems like you're insulting me, that's all."

Snape felt something inside of him crack. "Will you please not take me so damned seriously?" he snapped, exasperated. To Snape's complete surprise, a smile broke across Archer's face. "What?" he snapped again, but this time with less force. "I don't always intend to frighten, you know. My life's ambition is not to intimidate my students."

Nicole dared to say, quietly, "It's hard to believe that, Professor."

"You truly think that of me?" asked Snape. When she somberly nodded, it finally struck Snape how he had been treating her: like a first-year student, trembling in his classroom. That would stop right here, he decided. "Well then, why don't we make an arrangement." Snape saw Nicole's expression drop by a fraction; she probably expected a snide remark. "Whenever I am overly unpleasant, you should kick me."

Nicole nearly dropped her toast, she laughed so hard.

"I should _what_?"

"You ask me to clarify so often that I fear your hearing is impaired," Snape said, but he was smiling.

"I couldn't kick you! Jeez…"

The silence that followed while both ate was a comfortable one, punctuated by the occasional eye contact and smile.

When the House-elf Apparated to take their plates, it also delivered a note from Dumbledore. Snape read it while Nicole tried not to look too curious. She was glad of the change in events, and hoped it wasn't just temporary.

_Severus, I hope things have been better. Did you take my advice? Let me know all about it when you have a moment._ Snape smirked at that; as if he had anything but spare time. _The teachers have been covering your classes by turns, each picking up what he or she can. Professor Sprout covered your first-year class and had an interesting experience with melted cauldrons. Minerva had some trouble with the sixth and seventh years regarding your absence. Apparently, there is a rumor going around that you poisoned Miss Archer, or that the two of you are engaged in less-than-appropriate relations while quarantined. Where do kids come up with these things? Regardless, I just thought that you should be updated about the goings-on in the school. –Albus_

"What?" Nicole asked, seeing Snape chuckle. To her surprise, he held the parchment out towards her.

"Go on, read it."

Nicole took it and sped through it. Snape watched her eyes thoughtfully. She read quickly, he noticed. Her eyes jumped from phrase to phrase, and in a few seconds she was staring up at him.

"Inappropriate relations?"

"Indeed."

"Do they think we're…?"

"I would suppose so."

Nicole smiled. "Well, of course!" She saw Snape's eyes widen for an instant before her sarcasm struck her. "Of course that's why I poisoned myself! So I could spend the time with the love of my life, despite the fact that he's my Professor, over twice my age, and…"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Are you insinuating that I am not an Adonis?"

"Oh, Professor Snape, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways!"

While Nicole's pronouncement was overly flowery and exaggeratedly dramatic, the soft, velvety response that reached her ears sent a warm tingle down her spine: "I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach, when feeling out of sight, for the ends of Being and ideal Grace."

Snape's eyes pierced her, and as the silence returned Nicole felt warm and runny inside. Sometimes his voice was amazing. "You know that whole poem?"

Snape tilted his head slightly, and continued, "I love thee to the level of everyday's most quiet need, by sun and candlelight. I love thee freely, as men strive for right; I love thee purely, as they turn from praise." Nicole's eyes were glued to his, her mouth slightly agape. The tingling in her body had snaked down between her legs. She felt like running away, or approaching him, or doing anything but just sit there under his paralyzing gaze, with that voice… "I love thee with the passion put to use in my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose with my lost saints. I love thee with the breath, smiles, tears, of all my life, and, if God choose,  
I shall but love thee better after death."

Nicole felt her cheeks flush a bright pink when she finally broke the eye contact. She felt like she had been shaken from a trance or awakened from a coma. "That was… amazing, Professor, but… but you shouldn't talk like that, it'll be… it won't help the rumors, I guess." She smiled weakly up at him, feeling something like embarrassment and not knowing why.

"No, I suppose it won't." Snape paused, propped his chin on his right hand. "I didn't know you appreciated poetry, Miss Archer." Snape still had that queer, searching expression on his face. He didn't realize that she would appreciate just about anything if he had said it in that tone of voice.

Immediately after she had that thought, her mind recoiled. This was the same greasy Potions teacher she had been hiding from just a few hours ago! Ugh! But he was looking at her almost expectantly. Poetry. They were talking about poetry. "I haven't read much of it. In fact, I had never heard the rest of that poem until you said it just now. I do know a few stanzas of the Raven, but I guess everyone does. You know, 'once upon a midnight dreary,' and all that."

"What interests do you have, if not poetry?"

"Why do you ask?"

Snape shrugged lightly. "Honestly? I'm bored."

"Uhm… well, I don't know what you have to do down here. I mean, it's your place, you should know what kind of things you have."

Snape smiled, very slightly. Archer was babbling, but he actually enjoyed it. "What do you and your friends do, when trying to bide the time?"

"I'm not sure if you'd be too interested in what we do, Professor. It's kinda kid's stuff."

"Try me. I might surprise you."

Nicole smiled. First, his demeanor, then the poetry, and now he wants to spend quality time with her? Professor Snape was certainly full of surprises today.


End file.
